Chapter 28

Chapter 28
CLAIRE

That night I walked back into the hospital feeling lighter than I had in days. I’d slept—long, dreamless, almost greedy sleep. Dinner with the Ellerys had been quiet, though their eyes kept straying to me like I was a stray dog that had wandered into their kitchen.

They finally spoke to me,asking the kind that made it obvious they thought trouble followed me wherever I went. Maybe they weren’t wrong.

Still, I’d eaten. I’d rested. I’d forced myself not to think about Mason, Lydia, or the spiral carved into my car. Tonight, only one thing mattered: Lila.

The hospital was different after dark. Quieter, emptier, but not calmer. The smell of bleach and antiseptic seemed sharper, the lights harsher. The nurses on the night shift were new faces, but no better than the last crew. One leaned against the counter scrolling through her phone. Another sighed loudly while fiddling with paperwork. Competence didn’t seem to be a requirement here.

I asked about Lila’s room. A nurse waved vaguely down the hall. “Third door on the left.”

The corridor felt wrong. Not dangerous, exactly, but tightened, like a throat before a scream. The lights hummed. The walls narrowed. I told myself it was nothing, the paranoia of a tired mind. But the feeling stayed anyway.

By the time I reached Lila’s door, I had convinced myself it was just a hospital hallway. Just another door, just another girl in a bed. I wrapped my fingers around the handle, ready to see her sleeping,

Then a scream suddenly tore through the hallway, i ran wnd shoved the door open.

What I saw stole the air from my chest.

Lila was awake. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide with fear. She was struggling against the restraints of the blanket, half-sitting in bed, her mouth was open as the scream came out of her.

And leaning over her, with a syringe, was a nurse I had never seen before.

Her face was blank. She held the syringe like a tool she’d used a hundred times, the needle was angled toward Lila’s arm.

“No!”

I lunged. My hand smacked down hard against her wrist just as the needle dipped. The syringe slipped from her grip, and fell against the floor.

The nurse’s eyes met mine, and in them was not fear. Only recognition.

Then she bolted.

The bed rail clanged as she shoved past it. Then She darted toward the door, with shoulder first, almost knocking me sideways.

“Stop her!” I yelled, spinning after her.

Her shoes moved swiftly in the hall. I chased after her . But She was quick—faster than she looked—and already had a hand on the stairwell door.

That was when a hand caught my arm, stopping me mid-run.

“Claire!”

I spun, furious, and found myself staring into Dr. Ethan Cross’s eyes. He had just stepped into the corridor,he still had his gloves still on,and his coat wrinkled from hours of work.

“Let me go!” I snapped, struggling against his grip. “She tried to kill Lila!”

“She’s leaving the building,” he said firmly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it got through me all the same. “You can’t chase her down a stairwell. Think. Think about Lila.”

“Damn it, Dr Cross, she had a needle in her hand—”

“I heard you,” he said. “But if you go charging after her, you’ll end up another patient. Or worse.”

I looked past him, toward the stairwell. The nurse’s was already half gone, slipping into the steps.

And then she stopped.

Her hand pressed to the railing. She turned, and for the first time I saw her face clearly under the harsh hospital light. It wasn’t fear I saw there. It was decision.

She reached into her scrub pocket and drew out a knife.

Gasps echoed down the hall as others caught sight—nurses, a janitor, two visitors in slippers who’d wandered too far from the lobby.

“Put it down,” Cross ordered. He stepped forward, his body angled to shield me without thinking about it.

The nurse laughed. “You think you can stop the?” she whispered. And before anyone could move, she plunged the blade into her own chest.

Her body staggered, then crumbled to the ground The knife disappeared up to the hilt.Blood splattered across the pale green of her uniform.

“No—” I lurched forward, but Cross’s arm shot out, catching me just enough to stop me from being in the way when she crumpled.

Still, I dropped to my knees beside her. Instinct drove me. I pressed my hands to the wound, warm blood flooding between my fingers.

Her eyes met mine for a fraction of a second. Wide. Searching. And then they turned empty

Dr Cross barked for a crash cart, but even as the equipment was brought into the hall I knew. Everyone knew. Her chest rose once, rattled, and then went still.

The team worked anyways. Pads slapped against her chest. Hands pumped. But the knife had been well placed.

After too many minutes, one of the doctors checked her pulse, looked at Cross, and shook his head. She couldn't be saved anymore.

The corridor burst into murmurs

People had crowded in—nurses, staff, the visitors from the lobby. Some pressed hands to their mouths. Others just stared. It was the kind of silence that so loud it almost hurt.

Quinn’s voice cut through it at last, sharp as broken glass. “We’ll need statements,” she said from the doorway, already turning this into paperwork, already fitting it into a narrative that would never touch the truth.

I barely heard her.

All I could feel was the blood drying on my palms. All I could see was Lila, alive in the room down the hall, spared for now.

Cross crouched beside me. His voice was low, it was meant only for me. “Are you alright?
“No.” My voice cracked. “But Lila is. That’s what matters.”

Lila was alive—but someone had tried to finish what the masked man had started. And the woman who had failed had taken her own life before we could learn why.

The spiral on my car. The ledger. The initials. They weren’t shadows anymore. They were teeth. And the town, with its blank stare
Chs and half-truths, was bleeding out one secret at a time.

And I was standing in the middle of it.